


Little Miss Moonbeam

by Lili_Noir



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Daenerys Targaryen Deserves Better, Daenerys is like a sister to the Starks, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Jon and Ned are two of the only actual good guys in the whole of Westeros, R Plus L Does Not Equal J, Soft puppy Jon Snow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24013597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lili_Noir/pseuds/Lili_Noir
Summary: From the moment he saw her there, kneeling on the floor, begging for her life, he knew he would protect her from anyone, anything, that would try to hurt her...
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Little Miss Moonbeam

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This isn’t my first fanfic, but it’s my first time writing Jon/Dany.
> 
> The ages are based off of the books rather than the series, so Jon is 15 and Dany is 14. And the non con is implied, because I can’t write smut let alone rape, so it shouldn’t be too triggering (I hope).
> 
> This was going to be a one shot, but it was going to auto delete so I posted some of it now and am working on the other part.
> 
> So yeah, hope you enjoy, comment below what you think.
> 
> Stay safe
> 
> \- Lili 🖤💚

🗡🐺JON🐺🗡

It was Ghost’s low, throaty growl that first told Jon that something was wrong.

Then it was the goosebumps that flitted over his skin and made his whole body shiver.

The last thing was the dead body that him and his brothers had found beyond The Wall, looming over the Lord Commander, who had a long silver sword sticking out of his chest and blood rapidly pooling around his convulsing form.

Jon found himself rooted to the spot as the undead man turned around slowly, the frozen flesh beginning to thaw before his very eyes, starting to slide off its sinister form and exposing the white bone beneath.

The wight’s eyes were a piercing blue and black blood oozed from its gaping mouth. It had taken the sword from Jeor Mormont’s chest and rapidly advanced towards Jon, which harshly shook him from his reverie.

The raven haired boy grabbed the first thing that came to hand, which was a flaming torch hanging on the wall beside him.

His direwolf uttered a warning growl before pouncing at the approaching wight, carefully dodging the swinging blade.

Jon swung the torch at the man’s face with all his might, making him drop the shining sword as he caught on fire, causing the flesh to melt off of his bones quicker than before.

The boy quickly took hold of the blade and swiped forcefully at the wight, hearing the heavy metal whoosh through the air before hitting its target.

When the sword made contact with its putrid, rotting body, the corpse shattered like a glass window pane, the suddenly hard fragments falling to the floor around Jon and Ghost like morbid confetti.

Jon heaved a breath in as he steadied himself. Then he remembered his leader lying in the corner and ran to him.

He crouched over the dying body of Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, trying to stem the flow of blood that was slowly forming a crimson lake around his trembling form.

The Lord Commander lightly took Jon’s hand in his.

“Lord Snow,” the Old Bear rasped, his speech thick with blood, “it’s not safe for you here, it’s not safe for any of you. There’s a whole army of them beyond The Wall, and they’re coming for us, for all of us. They wish for eternal winter-“ he was cut off when a large mouthful of blood surfaced from his lungs, which he then spat out on the floor.

“What do I do Lord Commander?” Jon was trying so hard not to throw up, the coppery smell of blood filling his nose and making him sick to his stomach.

“No one will believe you come morning, that’s the harsh reality of it, so I want you to ride to King’s Landing, where your father Lord Stark is the King’s Hand I believe,” Jon nodded to confirm this statement, “and attempt to warn them of the impending threat. It may be that the White Walkers won’t attack us for years, but we can’t afford to take that chance.” Lord Commander Mormont’s breathing was becoming ragged as the veil of death slowly lowered over his eyes.

“Here, take this to protect you on your journey.” He handed Jon the sword he had discarded. “It was my family sword, and I planned to give it to my son, but he brought shame to the Mormont name, so it is now yours.” Jon just sat there, speech evading him, as the dying man handed him the great silver sword. “It’s Valyrian steel, and the pommel was a bear for our house, but since I planned to give it to you anyway, I had it carved into a wolf which I thought more fitting for a Stark.”

Jon shook his head in denial. “S-sir, I’m not a Stark, I’m just a bastard, I can’t take this sword. It was meant for great knights, who will win many battles and do great things.” The Old Bear laughed. “Who says a bastard cannot do great things?” His life then drained away before Jon’s eyes.

The boy stood, staring at the blood stained sword in his hands, before fastening the scabbard around his waist. He made a vow then and there to honour Jeor Mormont, who had put his faith in him. He vowed to never back down in the face of danger, to be noble and just, and most importantly to win this war, even if he died trying.

🔥🐉DAENERYS🐉🔥

When she awoke, Daenerys felt like she’d been split in half, her white dress stained with the blood from her pregnancy. She reached a hand down between her legs to find that she was still bleeding, and when she brought her hand back up it was stained with dark red blood.

Dany fumbled around for the three dragon eggs at her bedside, breathing a sigh of relief as her fingers brushed over the scaly spheres.

 _Wait. Where is my baby?_ She thought, trying to get up, but failing, as a fresh wave of pain hit her, causing her to lie back down.

It was then that she heard loud crashes and screams outside her tent. Her anxiety was through the roof at this point as she forced herself into an upright position with a mewl of pain.

Almost instinctively, Dany hid her dragon eggs under the thick layer of furs she was buried under as she heard footsteps approaching her tent. 

Armed soldiers ran into her tent, surrounding her bed. “Is she the one?” One of the men asked, licking his lips in such a way that sent shivers down Dany’s spine. “She’s a pretty little thing isn’t she?” He made a move to touch her, but was stopped by the leader. “Yes you idiot, look at her hair, she’s obviously a Targaryen, and our orders were to bring her back _unharmed_.”

The creepy soldier scoffed. “I wasn’t going to harm her,” he shot another lecherous look towards the silver haired Khaleesi, “we were just gonna have some fun, ain’t that right sweetie?” Daenerys shivered again in spite of the heat.

“Get your things Princess, you have to come with us,” the leader of the soldiers barked at her, “come outside when you’re ready, and don’t try anything stupid, cause we outnumber you one hundred to one.” 

With that, he cleared the tent of his men, leaving Daenerys sitting in shock, the last residue of blood still flowing down her legs.

She hastily grabbed a fur skin bag and threw some clothes in, nestling her dragon eggs in amongst them, before limping to the entrance with her things.

Her hands and feet were bound and then she was thrown onto the leader’s horse, still clutching her bag to her chest.

~~~

A couple of days of hardcore riding didn’t do Dany’s body any good and gave her no chance to recover from the birth of her child, who she had seen beside her tent, flies buzzing around the small, stillborn body. This had caused a fresh wave of tears to wash down her face, mingling with the dust, dirt and blood that coated her face.

When they reached the ship, Daenerys was thrown in a cell with her bag, which hadn’t left her side throughout the whole trip.

She huddled herself in the far corner of her cell and leant her head against the wall, feeling the ship rock rhythmically, all the while watching the burly guard who stood outside her cell door, probably trying to intimidate her.

But the silver haired princess wasn’t really afraid of the guards. She had been abused and traumatised so much now, that she felt nothing. No happiness, no fear, no anger, or sadness.

Just.  
Nothing.

It was as if everything that made her who she was; all of the experiences, the people she knew, all of her memories were slowly consuming her piece by piece, and very soon there would be nothing left

She didn’t care what they did to her anymore, in fact it would be better if they did do something to her, because anything was better than this. 

Feeling empty.  
Feeling paralysed.  
Feeling...nothing.

That all changed however when the guard posted outside entered her cell with a sultry smirk, which caused Dany to back further into her corner, and cry for her mother.  
A mother she never even knew.

🗡🐺JON🐺🗡

Jon’s journey south was long and brutal. He’d only managed to pack a few supplies before he’d heard people stirring in their chambers.

He’d snuck past the guard who was fast asleep and stole one of the horses from the stable, packing his supplies in his saddle bag before riding down the Kingsroad.

It wasn’t the cold that bothered Jon - he grew up in Winterfell after all - but riding for hours on end did put a strain on his body, and he found he had trouble walking after a full days ride.

Jon mostly slept under trees in the snow with his faithful direwolf watching over him, as he had no money to stay in an inn for the night. The cold night breeze often chilled him down to the bone until he gathered sticks to make a fire, which ensured he didn’t freeze in the night. Ghost curled up next to the raven haired boy, his thick winter coat and furnace like body heat also helping to keep Jon warm.

The journey to King’s Landing took about 3 days and 2 nights in total, and with each day that passed, Jon found himself needing his furs and the fire less and less to keep him warm at night, because the further south he travelled the warmer it got. 

When his journey came to an end at the gates of the great kingdom, Jon slowed his horse down to a walk so she was easier to control as he wove his way through the winding, bustling streets of King’s Landing.

As he surveyed the vibrant colours of the houses and buildings that made up this city, he couldn’t help but think of his sister Sansa. _Of course Sansa would love it here,_ He thought, still riding slowly though the cobbled streets, Ghost passing gently at his side. _everything is so intricate and neat, so regal and colourful, Sansa is probably having the time of her life._

This made the raven haired boy sigh quietly. He missed his sisters, especially Arya, who was witty and stubborn and quick with a sword. Jon hoped that Father hadn’t taken Needle away from her, cause he could teach her what he’d learnt at the Night’s Watch, and turn her into a competent little fighter.

After reaching the gates to the Red Keep, Jon was confronted with two guards.

“Who are you? State your business?” The one on the right asked him, pointing his spear at his throat.

Jon held his hands up, and called Ghost to heel, who was looking ready to attack those who would hurt his master. “My name is Jon Snow, I wish to see my father, Ned Stark, who is currently King’s Hand to his grace King Robert Baratheon.”

The guards looked at each other, before nodding, allowing him entrance to the Red Keep.

It truly was a magnificent building, with high arching walls of reddish stone and polished marble floors.

Two guards were sent to escort Jon and Ghost to the throne room where he was told his father would be. He was taken through training yards where soldiers were sparring with one another or sharpening their weapons, through beautiful gardens filled with colourful flowers, intricately sculpted fountains and pretty young maidens walking around in small groups, who giggled flirtatiously to each other when he passed them by, until he was finally outside the doors of the throne room. 

The guards opened the double doors to a grand, cavernous room with cathedral-esque ceilings and a balcony that stretched around the entire room. At the other side of the room was an intimidating throne made of melted swords, and upon it sat King Robert Baratheon who was dressed in gold and black, the colours of the Baratheon house, and beside him sat Jon’s father Ned Stark wearing green and silver, the Stark colours, the shiny King’s Hand pin clearly visible on his chest.

The King and his hand were having a heated argument with one another, which ground to a halt when Jon walked in.

“Jon?” Ned’s confusion quickly morphed into happiness at the sight of his fifteen year old son, and swept Jon into his large arms in a bone crushing hug.

“What are you doing at King’s Landing?” Ned pulled away and held his son at arms length while he studied him. “You’ve grown so tall Jon.”

Jon laughed, embracing his father once again, and was about to answer his question when three guards marched into the room, dragging a young girl behind them, and practically threw her at King Robert’s feet.

The girl had long, white blonde hair that was knotted and tangled, as well as beautiful lilac eyes filled with tears. A simple bag was clutched in her grasp and was filled with clothes. Jon could tell that her dress used to be white, but now it was caked in dirt, dust and what looked like blood.

She was trembling and cowering in the guards’ hold, looking up at them with scared, pleading eyes, and this made Jon want to punch someone.

From the moment he saw her there, kneeling on the floor, begging for her life, he knew he would protect her from anyone, anything, that would try to hurt her.

🔥🐉DAENERYS🐉🔥

The guards dragged Daenerys through the ornate throne room doors, their long, dirty nails digging little crescents into her dusty flesh.

Three men stood at the far side of the cavernous room, just in front of the Iron Throne.

The first man was large and fat, dressed in fancy looking robes and wearing a shiny, golden crown atop his balding head. This had to be the Usurper, King Robert Baratheon, the man who ordered her capture, the man who took her family’s throne, the man who killed her family. She felt a hatred towards him so strong that it burned through her blood like dragon fire, she wanted him to pay for what he did to her kin but obviously wasn’t in the position to do that now. 

The second man was the tallest there, and had longish brown hair that fell to his shoulders. A silver pin was fixed on his chest in the shape of a hand. Her brother had told her that the badge was the symbol of the King’s Hand, which earned him no respect from the Valyrian princess. 

The third was scarcely a man grown, he looked barely older than her. His ebony hair tumbled in soft curls to his jaw and he had cold grey eyes that seemed to stare straight into Dany’s soul, making her shiver as his gaze lingered on her. A bone white wolf stood by his side, red eyes fixed on hers just like its master's.

🗡🐺JON🐺🗡

The King cackled cruelly when the soldiers threw the silver haired girl to the ground at his feet. “The last of the dragonspawn.” He looked down at her with a spiteful grin on his portly face. She glared back at him through her tear drenched lashes, managing to work all of her hatred into her expression.

“Your brother kidnapped and raped the woman who was supposed to be my wife!” Jon has heard about the incident that sparked Robert’s Rebellion, when Rhaegar Targaryen had kidnapped and raped Lyanna Stark, the sister to his father Ned Stark, and his aunt.

Robert continued his rant, spit flying in the young girl’s face as he glared down at her. “Your father burned people alive! Your family should never have existed in the first place! Then all of those innocent people wouldn’t have been killed!” The girl on the ground still never said a word, just glared back at him with dragon fire in her opalescent eyes. “It’s a source of great comfort to me that the Targaryen line dies with this little slut here. I made sure that the guards brought you back unharmed, and not defiled, just so I could watch every single one of my soldiers fuck you bloody, then remove your limbs one by one, until you’re simply begging for death.” He smirked evilly at his words. The whole thing made Jon sick to his stomach. He also found it so hypocritical that Robert was threatening to do to her what her family had done to his loved ones. It was a vicious, never ending cycle that this poor girl had been dragged into because she was a part of a family she never even knew.

Jon looked away, pained, as Robert knelt down in front of the girl, and yanked her chin up so his eyes met hers. “Are you listening, you little bitch?” She proved unresponsive, her beautiful and amethyst eyes staring at the wall next to his head, devoid of all emotions. The King straightened up and started to kick the princess repeatedly in the stomach, making her howl in pain.

Jon has never heard such a pitiful sound in his life, not even when Robb had accidentally ran into a bear trap when they were playing in the woods, or when Bran has broken his ankle falling out of a tree he was climbing. This was a cry of pure anguish. She wasn’t just crying because of the blow to her stomach. Only someone who had been through a lifetime of torment could make that sound.

He couldn’t take it anymore. “Stop, Your Grace.”

The hall fell silent at his words. Only the soft whimpers of the amethyst eyed girl could be heard echoing softly through the cavernous room.

Robert’s head slowly twisted to stare at Jon, his beady eyes narrowed. “What did you say boy?” The eerily calm tone he was using made the hairs on Jon’s neck and arms stand straight on end.

He took a deep breath, sensing that he was walking on eggshells at the moment, so he made sure he chose his words carefully. “What I meant King Robert,” Jon took another breath before continuing “is she wasn't even born at the time of your rebellion, so in truth, all she knows of the atrocities her family committed were what her brother has told her.” Jon didn’t know her brother’s name (or hers for that matter) but he knew that the Targaryen princess had one, and that he had stolen her away to Essos after Robert’s Rebellion.

Robert’s expression wavered a little bit, so Jon continued, seeing that he was getting through to the stubborn King. “I’m not trying to deny or excuse what the Targaryens have done, but the ones who have wronged you, and this kingdom, have paid their dues. You killed Rhaegar at the Battle of the Trident, avenging my Lady aunt and winning the Seven Kingdoms.”

Jon was playing his cards right and he knew it, judging by the look on Robert’s face. _He always was a narcissistic, drunken prick._ “And Princess...” he trailed off, not knowing her name, when his father interjected. “Princess Daenerys.” “Princess Daenerys doesn’t have any armies, so she shouldn’t pose a threat to your crown.” Jon paled when he saw Robert’s face morph into a scowl.

“But I’m sure there are traitorous little shits out there who would rather serve under a Targaryen whore than me, their rightful heir.” The King bristled, puffing up in indignation.

“Well Your Grace, I’m sure that there are way more Baratheon supporters than Targaryen supporters, especially after the disastrous reign of King Aerys. And if the Targaryen supporters found out that you were merciful towards their Princess, then they would surely have more respect for you, rather than them being pissed at you for torturing and raping her.” Jon finished, sneaking a glance down at Daenerys, who was looking up at him with a relieved and grateful expression on her pretty face.

Robert sighed, still glaring down at Daenerys with a hateful scowl. “Fine. Guards, take her to her cell.” This caused the fear to grace the princess’ face once more. 

“Your Grace, maybe we should be treating the princess as a guest rather than a prisoner, maybe give her a room instead of a cell and some new clothes.” Jon was surprised to hear his father stand up for the girl, but then again, he’d always been an honourable man and could see that she had done no wrong so she shouldn’t be treated in this way.

Robert bristled, turning to glare at Ned. “Really Ned? You think I’d waste a good room on _her_?”

“You don’t have to.” The two men turned to look at Jon, surprise marring their features. “She can share my room, then you won’t be wasting a room on her, but she won’t be in a cell.”

He looked down at her shaking form. _Don’t worry Princess, I won’t let them hurt you._

🔥🐉DAENERYS🐉🔥

 _Why was he doing this? Why was he helping a total stranger?_ The thoughts pooled in Dany’s mind, swirling around like a whirlpool of doubt and sorrow, the riptide pulling her in, threatening to drown her in her own mistrust.

The ebony haired boy, she heard someone call him Jon, was striding along in front of her, leading her to his, _their_ , room.

Dany could feel her emotions bubbling to the surface, threatening to spill over. She couldn’t cry, not here, not while they were walking through busy corridors filled with staring people. She could feel their eyes boring into her, eating her alive, tearing her apart, until she was the size of a small mouse, cowering in fear, encircled by cats.

He didn’t speak. Not even when they entered the room, and he softly closed the door behind her. He just looked at her, his once cold eyes held a soothing warmth that drew her in like a moth to a flame, or, in this case, a dragon to a flame.

It was that warmth that broke her. It razed her dam to the ground and let her emotions pour out. She punched the door, pounding it with her fists, before turning round to slide down its smooth oak surface, coming to sit on the floor with her legs drawn into her chest, her knees muffling her choked sobs. His white wolf padded over to her and licked her hand, nudging it with his nose.

Jon looked at her, surprised at her outburst, but seated himself next to her and slid an arm around her shoulders, drawing her into his chest.

Dany uncurled herself slightly so she could wrap her arms around him. Jon lifted her slightly and placed her fully in his lap, then pulled the black fur cloak he wore so it was wrapped around them both.

The princess wanted to stay there forever in the arms of this strange, sweet boy, cocooned in warmth, surrounded by safety.

Jon was around a head taller than her and quite a bit bigger, so Daenerys was completely enveloped by him, the cloak covering her completely, which left her breathing in his soothing scent and her hands clutching his leather tunic tightly. 

Jon’s strong arms were wrapped around her tight, his cheek lay across the top of her head and she could hear his steady breath, helping her heart rate slow and her nerves calm themselves.

When her sobs had slowed to a quite snuffle, Dany brought her head out from his chest and peered up at him, a small smile gracing her lips.

“Thank you.”


End file.
